Cry baby, cry as much as you want. But know that the hurt is over. We are stronger now.

Last night I got that urge, or what ever it is, to sit down by myself in my room and sketch a new comic story.

It got to be 10 pages, but I might make it longer if I decide to slow down the pace a bit… Add som more silent panels perhaps…

Yeah, anyway, then my sister called and we spoke over the phone for a long while. She wanted entertainment since she had no tv where she was and her boyfriend had told her he needed his “alone time” (ah, men… ya gotta love ’em…).

So she called me. For entertainment. And that’s toootally fine.

Sometimes I call her for entertainment. Or for support when everything feels like shit. Or just to have someone to sit silent with for an hour or so. Expensive phonebills, sure, (since she refuses to get Comviq kompis!) but totally worth it.

Anyway, back to the comic. I read it aloud to her over the phone.

She was silent for the most part. Answered a couple of questions I had (questions like: do you remember how old we were when that happened? was it insense and soap in the box?), then towards the end I heard her voice had gotten all thick and broken.

She was crying. For a moment there I felt like a psychopath, I laughed and exclaimed “haha, you’re crying! It’s good! It’s a good story! YES!”. It was the best feedback a story of mine could get.

Then she asked me to change it. She was afraid that dad would read it and get upset.

I’m not changing it.

But I will say that this is only my story, my truth right now. It is not meant to be the objective undisputable truth. No, it’s only meant to be a good story and a step on my own personal way towards liberation.

And hey, dad’s made us upset quite a number of times, and we were only children then, so what should we go tippy toe ’round his ego now for, huh..?

I think that maybe it’s the sense of shame that gets my sis’ so nervous.

I feel it too.

Shame. Idiotic feeling. Shame should die.

As I see it, if you get the shit out in the open it’ll strengthen you instead of break you down. It could end up making me a heartless self centered psychopath of course… but I’m willing to take the risk. So far I still feel love and compassion for my fellow travellers on this long road called life…